


of distant dark places

by riot627



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Ezra Bridger Gets a Hug, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nightmares, i don't know if this is coherent at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riot627/pseuds/riot627
Summary: For a long moment he just sits and lets the cold floor soothe his sore body. Then the door opens behind him with a soft hiss, and he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Ezra," Hera mutters.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Hera Syndulla
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	of distant dark places

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is bad and short i'm sorry but i am Suffering and needed some space mom comfort  
> \- mild emetophobia warning for the first two paragraphs  
> \- title is from set fire to the third bar by snow patrol

Ezra wakes up slowly. Threads of his nightmares cling to him like spiderwebs, and there's nausea deep in his stomach. He feels both insubstantial and impossibly heavy in a way that's so  _ wrong  _ it almost hurts. 

With a shaking hand he brushes strands of too-long hair off his forehead. He's biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, because the pain pushes back the sick feeling, but there's still bile rising in his throat and he barely makes it to the 'fresher in time to throw up what little food he's eaten recently.

For a long moment he just sits and lets the cold floor soothe his sore body. Then the door opens behind him with a soft hiss, and he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Ezra," Hera mutters. 

He pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his head. His nausea is mostly gone now, but his body hums with residual anxiety, and now embarrassment at having Hera see him like this. She slides down the wall to sit beside him and lifts an arm so he can tuck against her side. He's afraid of seeming childish, but he's also cold and terrified and feeling so desperately alone. He curls up and leans into her. "S'okay, kid," she says sleepily. "I've got you."

His eyes water at her comfort. It reminds him of distant memories of his mother, back when things were better. Tears slide down his cheeks and he sniffs quietly. 

"Did you have a nightmare?" Hera asks, and he nods. 

"M'sorry for waking you," he whispers. 

"It's alright," she reassures him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugs. He doesn't remember his dreams, not really, just pieces - blaster fire and screams, the smell of burning, and the feeling of being chased. Enough to make him panic, but nothing he can put into words.

She hugs him closer, warm and  _ safe,  _ and something in him breaks. He's learned to cry quietly, but his shoulders still shudder with stifled sobs. Hera is calm and steady beside him, whispering soft comforts in his ears. "It's okay, Ezra. You're safe. Let it all out, kiddo."

He cries into her shirt and his tears stain the fabric, but she just holds him close and lets him fall apart. "It'll be alright," she whispers, as he thinks of every moment he longed to feel his parents' embrace one more time, and every lonely night spent holding himself together. She rubs his back, and he can feel all the genuine love in the gesture, so much that he almost chokes on it. 

He doesn't cry for long, because allowing himself to be this vulnerable is unnerving. It still takes him a few long minutes after the tears have stopped to get his shaky breathing back under control, then he sags bonelessly and yawns so loud his jaw cracks. Hera smiles at him. "You should get back to bed, Ezra. There's still a few hours to morning." 

They stand up, wincing as their bodies protest the hard floor they'd been sitting on. There's an awkward moment after they both exit the 'fresher, where Ezra can't quite meet Hera's eyes, the shame from earlier flooding back. He feels weak and pathetic, for falling apart like that, like a child. Hera steps towards him, and he twitches back, but she just presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, kiddo," she whispers.

"G'night," he mumbles back, and returns to his room, footsteps light as a loth-cat's.

  
  



End file.
